


and I'll never go home again

by Book_Junkie007



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, I'm Sorry, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_Junkie007/pseuds/Book_Junkie007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She said that she had no one left to love. But she lied. The things Johanna will do for the only real friend she's ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and I'll never go home again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [titania522](https://archiveofourown.org/users/titania522/gifts).



> Thanks to my betas for going through this. I hope you enjoy it!

Johanna’s first memory is of her sitting in a medical room in her family’s logging camp. She was five years old and loved to be able to run around and play hide and seek in the trees around the camp (although she didn’t play where daddy and the others were working, of course). Her Mommy used to play with her, but her belly had grown bigger, and it was harder for her to move around. Johanna’s parents had sat her down and had a talk with her, and she had sort of understood that she was going to become a big sister, although the logistics of how the baby would get from her mommy’s tummy to where Johanna could hold him were a little lost on her.

Today, though, she’s sitting on the edge of her mother’s bed, carefully holding her little brother in her arms. “Johanna, this is Liam,” they say.

And as Johanna holds her little brother in her arms, an unfamiliar feeling rushes up in her (later, when she’s older, she will come to recognise it as protectiveness).

“Hi, Liam,” she says in a whisper. “I’m your sister Johanna. I’ll always love you.”

(Because loving someone and being protective of them is kind of the same thing, right?)

///

It’s recess time at school, and Johanna is standing slightly apart from the other girls in her class, watching them. She’s eight years old, and has no desire to wear pretty dresses anymore. Pants are more suitable for climbing trees and running around, she’s discovered.

The girls are sitting in a circle, playing some sort of rhythm game. One of the girls, Gwenifer, the prettiest girl in the class, whom all the adults like, looks up and notices Johanna.

“Sorry, Johanna, you can’t play,” she says. Her voice sounds sincere, but there’s something about it that Johanna doesn’t like.

“Why not?” she asks.

“Because we aren’t allowing anyone more to join.”

“You just let Blythe join,” Johanna protests, unable to see Gwenifer’s logic in not letting her join in.

“Yes, but that’s because Blythe has a pretty dress on, and you don’t,” Gwenifer says bluntly. “Sorry, you can’t play with us.”

Johanna walks away from the group of girls with tears in her eyes, but she’s determined to not let them fall.

///

It’s a week before the school’s year end dance, and Johanna still doesn’t have a date. (Not that she _really_ wants to go, but she has to fit in with the rest of the brainless population at this school, after all.) She likes the look of the new boy whose family had just transferred to her logging camp, so she decides that it would be fun to ask him to go with her.

She approaches him after school one day, before he heads home to help his father with the wood chopping.

“Hi, Oran,” she says, her face open and friendly. “I was wondering if you would like to go to the dance with me."

Johanna waits as Oran’s eyes look her up and down, scrutinizing every bit of her appearance before his eyes meet hers again.

“I’m sorry, but _who_ are you, and why would I want to go with _you_?” he asks snidely. “Besides, you’re too late. I’m already going with Gwenifer: I asked her as soon as I heard about the dance. You’re too slow. Oh, well, maybe you could find some other poor soul who would be stupid enough to go with you?”

Oran laughs in Johanna’s face and walks away from her. She has a faint blush colouring her cheeks for three hours afterward.

///

Johanna is fourteen years old when the 65th Hunger Games are played. She watches on the portable screen in the middle of the camp with some of her classmates, although she studiously avoids both the girls who have bullied her since elementary and Oran, because she likes to avoid public embarrassment, thank you very much.

The male tribute from District Four has caught her eye from the beginning of the Games, and she secretly bets that he will be the one who will win. He had won over the audience during the interviews, and during school, all the silly, twittering girls could talk about was how handsome he had looked during his interview in his linen suit and boat shoes. At least, that’s what Johanna thought they were. She had never been one to follow Capitol fashion. Plus it made sense, what with his district being known for fishing and all.

After Finnick has thrown his trident for the last time, defeating his final opponent, the cannon booms, the body is taken away, and he is left in the middle of his battlefield, breathing heavily and still clutching his trident. A few moments later, a hovercraft comes for him, and the Games are over for another year (although they’re never really over, are they?). Amongst the shouting and screaming, she hears the girls swooning dramatically. The only thought running through Johanna’s mind is whether, if she ever met Finnick, if he would be willing to show her how to throw a trident.

///

She doesn’t quite remember how she won her Games (or, more accurately, she doesn’t want to remember). She knew that she had heard an inner voice tell her to _survive_ , so she did. She still sees her games when she goes to sleep though.

///

Johanna is on her Victory Tour, and she knows it’s supposed to be all for her, to celebrate _her_ , but it really isn’t. She feels like she’s a piece of meat on display while she’s in the Capitol; the women glare at her for a little bit too long, and the mens’ gazes slide over her body slow and slick, like sap oozing out of the tree trunks and into the buckets during the spring.

She has a ridiculous dress on, much to her everlasting annoyance, and she's getting tired of all the dances she's been asked to dance. She's just snagged a pastry off of a tray, even though she has no idea what it is (seriously, what is with all this food in the Capitol?), when she feels someone standing beside her. 

She's about to turn, ready to snap at whoever it is (she's past caring about politeness and manners), when she catches a glint of sea green from the corner of her eye. She turns more slowly, and looks up into the face of none other than Finnick Odair. 

Her heart starts to pound. He's more handsome than he was on TV when she first saw him (he had been covered with grit and grime and blood, and she _absolutely wasn't thinking about blood right now_ ), and during his Victory Tour. She could begin to see why the other girls in her class had been sighing over him. She's heard the rumours about him now, though, and wonders why he has come to approach _her_ of all people when he could easily be off with one of his lovers. 

"May I have this dance?" he asks, his voice impossibly low, and tugging at somewhere deep in Johanna's gut. 

"Of course," she responds, and she didn't just let out a breathy giggle, did she?

She allows herself to be led into the position appropriate for a Capitol dance. There isn’t much dancing in Seven; the people just never find the time or the need for it, so the fact that it’s considered fun is a bit of a foreign concept to her.

“You look lovely tonight,” he tells her, his lips just barely brushing the shell of her ear.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” She wants to kick herself for the lack of tact in her response.

Finnick pulls back and she sees his grin. “All the better to tempt you with, my dear,” as if he’s one of those villains from centuries-old, half-remembered fairy tales. There is no place for fairy tales now, not with world looking like it is, like loathing and sadness and hopelessness and oppression. Johanna knows this, and she’s only won her Games six months ago.

She gives him a small smile in return.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?” Finnick asks, still slowly rotating her in his arms.

“Of course,” she says. As brief as their interactions have been so far, she still feels nothing but something like trust towards Finnick, even though she’s promised herself that she won’t trust anyone besides her family again.

“You’re going to be receiving a visit from our dear President within the next little while, and he’s going to offer you a deal. There have been whispers about you, Johanna, whispers about how much people would pay to have you in their bed. The clients themselves will offer you anything you desire: gold, jewels, money. If you take them up, you will be very disappointed with yourself.”

Johanna leans back so she can see his face more clearly. “How do you know this?”

Finnick just smiles at her. “I hear rumours. Come, the Presidential Address is about to start.”

Johanna allows herself to be led away, her arm still tucked in with his, shocked that anyone would want to have anything to do with her, of all people.

She stays remarkably quiet for the rest of the evening.

///

A few days after her return from the Capitol, she receives a visit from Snow himself, offering her a chance to be someone’s lover; someone to be cherished. She says no.

Two weeks later, as she’s walking through the camp with her head held down, avoiding everyone’s gaze, she hears shouts and screams for help. By the time she gets there and has pushed through the crowd of people, it’s too late. Her mother and father and brother are gone, crushed by a log rolling off the back of a truck.

That night, she curls herself up into a ball in the corner of her room in her house, sobbing until her eyes are sandy, her stomach hurts, and her voice is sore.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Liam,” she keeps repeating. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you like I said I could.”

She goes through the motions of living for months after that, until the next Games.

///

When the Reaping for the 69th Hunger Games arrives, Johanna goes through the motions of the day on autopilot; the whole thing is a bit of a blur.

It’s not until she’s sitting down in the room with the other mentors (a mentor, _her_ , of all people; who did they think they were kidding? She could barely take care of herself) that the world snaps back into focus. She watches her tributes as the cannon goes off and the countdown begins, not sure if she wants them to stay alive or die right away more, and hating herself for the thought.

After the bloodbath at the Cornucopia has ended, and one of her tributes has survived (she’s not sure if the knot in her stomach is from joy or sorrow), she feels a presence at her side.

She turns and looks up at Finnick.

“Sugar cube?” he asks, offering her one in the palm of his outstretched hand. “It will keep you alert; more likely to be able to help your tribute.”

She takes the cube from his hand and pops it into her mouth. “Thanks.” She smiles. “So how did your two fare?”

“They both survived, but I’m not sure if I should be grateful or pity them.”

“Same here,” she murmurs, turning back to her screens. “Wanna sit?”

Out of the corner of eye, she watches Finnick sit down in the chair beside her.

A couple of days later, when they’re running on sugar and pure willpower to stay awake, Johanna quietly leaves the room and comes back with two cups of coffee, handing one to Finnick silently.

He tilts his head at her in thanks.

///

One night, when she’s staying at Finnick’s apartment in the Capitol (she doesn’t stay at home in District Seven anymore if she can help it), she watches as he comes through the door, his shoulders slumped.

“Are you okay?” she asks, getting up to boil him a cup of tea.

“Fine.” He sighs heavily. “I’m just tired of it all, you know?”

Johanna nods. “I definitely know the feeling.”

“I just feel like the net is closing tighter and tighter around me, and I won’t be able to get free.”

Johanna walks over to him and touches his arm in support. “Why don’t you sit down and you can tell me about it; or not, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Finnick walks over to the couch and flops onto it almost heavily, looking nothing like the man who was usually all smiles and charm. Johanna likes that she’s the only who sees him like this. It makes her feel special, important.

She finishes making his tea and walks over to the couch, setting it on the floor beside him before sitting down.

Slowly, he begins to tell her stories; stories about lovers and prostitution, and people trying to claim him as their own. Being offered money and jewels, but quickly learning that it was more profitable to deal in secrets. People wanted to tell _someone_ their secrets, and apparently he was the one they trusted enough to tell.

Johanna says nothing as Finnick’s stories continue to spill out, and she only presses herself closer against his side, the contact between them being one solid line from shoulder to thigh.

She hopes it’s enough.

///

At the end of the 70th Hunger Games, Johanna watches through the window in the hospital room’s door, with a pang in her chest. She knows that it’s good that Finnick had one of his tributes win this year, but at what cost to her sanity? Johanna has been hearing whispers from the doctors while walking through the corridors that the winner may never regain her sanity. She may be destined to live a life where curling up into a ball and rocking with her hands over her ears.

Johanna isn’t sure whether she’s supposed to pity Annie Cresta or not.

///

As the years leading up to the 74th Hunger Games pass, Johanna and Finnick grow closer. She spends more and more time at his Capitol apartment, and if he’s not out with one of his Capitol lovers (and she knows how much he despises this life; how unhappy he is with himself that he gave into Snow’s demands), he’s at home with her, curled up with her in their bed, swapping stories and secrets.

It’s a quiet, simple life, or as simple as it can get for them. She tries to not let the fact that he needs to go be with others get to her, knowing that he doesn’t have much of a choice. The best she can do is listen to his ridiculous stories, and be close to him when he’s had enough of their exasperating antics.

She knows that, objectively, they should never be together, that the prejudice they would get from their home districts if they knew that she and Finnick were together would overwhelm them. The Capitol probably wouldn’t mind their love story as much; in fact, they might even be extremely proud.

But when it’s just her and Finnick, in between their sheets, their passion overtaking them, Johanna finds it hard to care about anything except for Finnick’s body and hers moving together.

///

The 75th Hunger Games Reaping is announced, and she can do nothing but stare at the TV in shock after having let out a frustrated scream. She looks over at Finnick, out of the corner of her eye, and she sees his face has become carefully blank, a mask which she knows very well when he’s being forced to do things he does not want to do.

She knows the feeling all too well.

The months leading up to the Quarter Quell are a blur, and soon she’s on the train, back to a place which she hasn’t called home in so long (if she’s honest with herself, ever since her family died; Finnick is her family now). She’s escorted to the stage and is chosen to go back into the arena. She barely suppresses her bitter laughter. Of course, of _course_ she would be the one who would be chosen to go through the pain and loss again.

Her male counterpart is called, and they are put quickly on the train.

Her handler suggests that they watch the other district’s Reaping, and she reluctantly agrees, although she wants to see how these Games all shake out.

Her stomach drops when Finnick is called, and then she feels pity when Annie is called. She doesn’t want to see the poor, mad girl attempt to navigate the arena again, and she guesses that the other Victors in District Four have the same feelings, because Mags quickly volunteers.

She can barely contain her disgust when she sees the Reaping in Twelve. Katniss Everdeen, the one whom they call the Girl on Fire, takes her reaping silently, if not without a few tears. Johanna watches as she seems to have a fleeting look of relief when Haymitch Abernathy is called, but her face drops again when Peeta Mellark, her supposed lover, volunteers. She still isn’t completely sold on their love story; she thinks that it’s still a very elaborate act, on Katniss’ side at least.

These Games will be very interesting, indeed.

///

Johanna wakes up in the middle of the night and glances over at Finnick, who is keeping watch. She knows she _should_ sleep, she _must_ sleep, but she _just can’t sleep_. Not here, in an arena, when she had been promised that she would never have to set foot in one again.

She gets up and goes over to Finnick, sitting beside him.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” he replies. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope. Got any stories to tell me?”

“Of course.”

They stay up until dawn, telling each other stories, and watch as the arena gears up for another frightening day.

///

She doesn’t remember much about her time in the Capitol. She just remembers desperately clinging to the hope that Finnick is holding himself together while she’s gone. If he breaks, she’ll break too.

///

After she’s been rescued, and she is recovering in the hospital in District Thirteen, Finnick comes in and sits with her (despite the fact that he would be skinned alive if someone from Thirteen found him, he tells her; apparently they’re very strict about rules and everyone acting the same here in Thirteen). He holds her hand and they sit and talk for hours, occasionally giving and stealing kisses.

She feels happy and almost safe.

///

When Finnick bounds into her room, his eyes shining bright and a broad grin across his face, telling her about his recruitment to a special sharpshooting squad, she hides her fears behind brittle smiles and a falsely bright voice. She tells him to be careful and that she loves him.

He stands stock still for a moment before telling her he loves her too and gives her a quick kiss before leaving.

She hopes that he can stay safe.

///

Word filters into the hospital about the state of the All-Star Firing Squad. The majority of them confirmed dead, Finnick Odair included, with Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, and Gale Hawthorne still missing in action.

The news makes her stomach drop to the floor.

_Of course,_ she thinks bitterly. _Of course the silly little love birds, darlings of the Capitol will still be alive. It’s not fair, it’s not_ fair.

She refuses her nightly dose of morphling, welcoming the pain, and curls up in a ball under her covers and cries until her eyes hurt and her stomach feels sick.

///

She doesn’t quite remember how she gets into this room with a round table and the other Victors. She dimly acknowledges the fact that Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta (looking a lot rougher for wear, the both of them; Johanna can’t muster any pity for them though), Beetee, Enobaria, and Annie are seated at the table with her.

Coin’s voice sounds garbled, as though she is underwater, as she explains the need for one last Hunger Games.

As the voting begins, Johanna starts to think that it would be nice to _hurt_ the Capitol, even in some small way. They’re the ones who took away her family, her love, her freedom, and everything she held dear.

So she votes yes.


End file.
